Subject: GhostsFromThePast.6

From: "Colin J. Wynne" <[email-masked]>
Date: Tue, 12 Jan 1993 16:53:42 +0500 (EST)

This story is property of:
				Colin J. Wynne
				P.O. Box 4661
				Lexington, VA 24450
				(703) 464-4030
				[email-masked]

Permission is given to distribute this story freely as long as this header
is included with all files/hardcopies/electronic postings.

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"Ghosts from the Past," Ch. 16 through Ch. 17:
----------------------------------------------

                           CHAPTER XVI

     Admiral Heirok looked up from the sector status board he was 
studying.  The aide stood patiently, a small databoard held in his 
hand.
     "Yes?"
     "New reports, sir."
     Heirok read over the screen, blinked read it again, then a 
third time.  Without a word, he shoved the board back at the aide, 
who almost dropped it, and shot across the room at a dead run.
     "What the hell!" muttered the aide, then looked at the data 
himself.  A knot of fear tightened in his stomach.
     The President looked up at the approaching Chief-of-Staff.
     "Mr. President!"
     "What is it?" he asked, worry seeping into his voice.  He had 
already been two days without sleep and wondering how things 
could get worse.
     "New reports.  Best estimates give us 1500 enemy heavy units 
in Federation territory."
     "Oh my God."  The sweat was noticeable on his brow.
     "They're concentrating in one of our weakest sectors, at 
least six-hundred of them.  Right here."  His hand pointed towards 
a nearby strategic plot.
     "How many ships do we have there?"
     "Sixty cruisers, and about one-hundred smaller units.  For 
the entire sector.  And..."
     "What is it Admiral?"
     "The Transwarp Strike Fleet is the closest force."
     "I see.  What is your recommendation, Admiral?"
     "Mr. President, if that is any indication of the total force 
that the Jhonkai possess, Wesley doesn't stand a chance.  Even if 
he does manage to win, what good will it be if there's no 
Federation to come back to."
     The President all of a sudden felt incredibly burdened.  
Wesley's force appeared to be the UFP's only chance.  But Heirok 
was a good officer, and the President had come to trust the 
Andorian's advice.  "What does Gruber say?"
     "One minute, sir, and I'll find out."
     Heirok spoke to a nearby intercom for several minutes, then 
returned.  "He concurs."
     "I see.  Prepare to recall the Strike Fleet.  Log the order 
on my authority, Stardate 42954.0."

     In defiance of everything that Wesley had been told, the 
fleet was ready almost two hours ahead of schedule.  With a 
queasiness of anticipation in his gut, Admiral Garrett Wesley 
surveyed the bridge of his flagship.
     "Status."
     "Sir, all engineers report alterations complete and 
simulations positive.  Shield refits are all completed and full 
tests conducted.  Shuttles and small craft have been recovered from 
starbase, and the fighter-shuttles are all armed and ready.  All 
ships at yellow alert, all supplies aboard, and awaiting departure 
order."
     Wesley took in a fateful feeling breath and prepared to give 
the order, when the Communications Officer announced, "Admiral, 
priority Flash, Starfleet Command to Task Force Commander."
     "On screen."
     The starfield turned into a blue UFP shield, and Wesley heard 
the voice of Starfleet Chief-of-Staff, Admiral Heirok.
     "Admiral Garrett Wesley, Commanding Officer, Task Force 
Odysseus.  As of Stardate 42954.0 you are ordered, by authority of 
Starfleet Command representing the President of the United 
Federation of Planets, to cease all preparations for entrance into 
Jhonkai space.  Your force will engage a reported six-hundred 
Jhonkai heavy units in your sector.  Interception co-ordinates 
have been transmitted to your ship's computers.  Acknowledge this 
order."
     A stunned silence clamped down on the bridge crew.  
"Acknowledge this order," repeated the screen.
     "Commander, get me the admirals."
     In moments, the shield was gone, and the screen split to show 
k'Rzaal, Krond, and S'Tyrrg.
     "Admirals, I have just been ordered to abandon Odysseus 
because the invasion has begun in this sector.  I need opinions."
     "Bah!" snarled Krond.  "We will do nothing here.  We must 
strike into these usurpers' homeland before we will accomplish 
anything."
     The Gorn nodded his scaled, dinosaur-like head gravely.  
"Admiral Wesley, he is right.  The purpose of this force must not 
be sacrificed for a victory of one battle, only to lose the war."
     The kzin's only response was a piercing, shrieking warcry, 
and a mouthful of carnivorous teeth.
     "I see your opinions.  I will let you know of my decision 
shortly.  Wesley out.
     "Captain, maintain your ship."  Wesley left through the 
central turbolift.  Out of sight, it rotated, and deposited him in 
the viewing lounge just aft of the bridge, and above a docking 
port.  He went to the intercom.
     "Fleet Admiral to Captain Picard."
     "Picard here."  His hawklike nose and thinning white hair 
became visible.  "Jean-Luc, I have a problem."
     Two minutes later, Picard said, "I see.  It is your decision, 
Admiral.  Not much of one, because it was quite clearly a direct 
order.  But my people will not get a chance to do their jobs while 
we're still here."
     "But all the people in this sector.  What are we condemning 
them to by leaving?  Don't answer, Captain.  It's not your 
problem. I must return to the bridge."
     The doors parted and Wesley was back on the bridge.  The room 
was dead quiet, without even any of the normal intercom chatter.  
The energisers rumbled faintly through the deck, and all eyes 
followed Wesley as he walked carefully to his seat.  It seemed a 
monumental task to climb the two small steps to mount it.
     Taking in every face in the compartment, thinking of them, 
whatever families and friends they were leaving behind, thinking 
of everything, he finally settled his eyes on the main viewer, out 
of contact with anything and anybody but the blackness of space.  
What am I condemning them to? 
     "The die is cast."
     He inhaled deeply, and closed his eyes.  "All ships to Red 
Alert.  Prepare to cast off, and move to predetermined departure 
point.
     "Communications, -"
     The Comm Officer interrupted the Admiral with a cleared 
throat.  "Sir, that last transmission was too garbled to be 
clearly understood.  I don't think we really need to log 
reception.  Will that be alright, sir?"
     "Just fine, commander.  Just fine."
     Wesley felt the relief wash off of his crew in waves, felt it 
seep reassuringly into himself.  Low voices took to their tasks, 
and the entire room came back to life.
     "All ships report ready sir, waiting for your command."
     "Go!"

     William Riker sat nervously in his command chair.  Data was 
at navigation, Worf at weapons, and Wesley Crusher at the helm.  
Geordi stood over his shoulder, waiting patiently for anything 
that required his duties as Exec.  Argyle was at the engineering 
station.
     Familiar faces to comfort him, but he was on pins and 
needles. They all were.  Even Data was unnaturally quiet.
     A beep sounded from the Comm console.  Geordi moved quickly 
to it, pushing a button, and listened to his earpiece.
     "Signal from flag, Captain.  Red Alert, and prepare to cast 
off."
     "Red Alert," ordered Riker.  The bridge was bathed in 
crimson.  Mr. Crusher, make preparations to depart."
     "Aye, aye, sir."
     "Geordi, report ready."
     "Yes, sir."
     Geordi spoke briefly, then listened again.  "Go."
     "Mr. Crusher, cast off."
     "Aye, sir."
     "Data, lay in course for first rendezvous."
     "Course laid in, sir."
     "All moorings clear."
     "One-fourth impulse, helm."
     "Aye."  Wes's hands moved over the board, and his eyes watched 
several displays.  "We are clear of the station and free to 
navigate."
     "Data, engage."
     The ship accelerated, then the viewscreen made the slightest 
shift as warpspeed was achieved.  In less than five minutes, all 
of Odysseus's ships were at the rendezvous, and the Admiral 
ordered them into formation.
     "Mr. Crusher, make it so."
     Hours of computer simulation had told the tactics officers 
just where every ship should go to provide the best coverage and 
interlocking fire.  The three SCS's and six battleships were 
spread as evenly as possible, each with an accompanying complement 
of battlecruisers.  The heavy cruisers formed a forward line, and 
the smaller ships were scattered seemingly randomly.  The carriers 
were in the middle.
     "We are now in formation on the flagship," announced Data.
     "Argyle, power up the rip generator."
     "Yes, sir."
     The viewscreen shifted again, revealing the Admiral.  "This 
is Admiral Wesley to all ships.  We are here on the threshold of 
the unknown.  This will probably be the most important mission of 
many of your careers.  You will not let me down.  Good luck to you 
all.  Begin countdown...NOW."
     "Thirty seconds," announced Data.
     "Rip generator at full power and holding."
     "Worf, load all torpedoes to maximum."
     "Aye, sir."
     "Twenty seconds."
     "Torpedoes loaded.  Preparing to divert power to phasers at 
breakthrough."
     "Good.  Standby."
     "Ten seconds."
     "Data, bring shields to full power."
     "Yes, sir.  Shields at full.
     "Five seconds."
     "Argyle, go."
     The engine pitch rose to a scream, as if the nacelles were 
trying to rip themselves free of the hole.
     "Three, two, one.  Engage."
     "Minimum magnification on the viewer."
     Riker took in a view of the entire fleet from his position at 
the top of the right flank.  In the very center of the tremendous 
formation, a small jet black orb appeared, crackling with white 
lightning.  It expanded, swallowing up the stars.
     Crusher announced, "Reversing thrust to compensate."
     The engine noise became even louder, and Riker felt a small 
trembling in the deckplates.  The void continued to grow.  
Presently it expanded past the fringes of the fleet.
     "Inform the flag that we now have clear passage, Geordi."
     "Yes, sir," answered the temporary Exec and Comm Officer.  He 
sent the message, and then repeated the reply.  "Ingram says to 
standby for transition."
     "Increasing reverse thrust."  The bulkheads were vibrating 
noticeably now.
     "Engines standing by."
     "Signal to fleet from Ingram.  Complete transition in ten 
seconds...MARK."
     Sweat poured down Riker's forehead.  The engines were now 
shaking his teeth.  He was glad that this ship had chairstraps, 
else he would have fallen on the deck already.
     At two seconds, the lightning exploded into one ferocious 
instant of light, leaving an oval shaped swath of misplaced stars.
     At one second, Wes put the engines to full power ahead.  
Everyone squashed back into their seats before the acceleration 
dampeners could compensate.  At one-half second the ship bucked 
incredibly, and Riker felt tunnel vision setting in.  His body had 
turned traitor, and he couldn't move a single muscle in his body.
     Then at T minus zero seconds it really got bad.  Will heard 
someone grunt, as though hit in the belly, realised it was 
himself, and wheezed.  He could feel the blood coursing through 
his temples, and the veins on his neck bulge.  His neck ached, but 
so did everything else.  He thought he heard the engines shut off 
automatically, and either lights went out, or he became 
unconscious a moment before he thought he did.

     Admiral Wesley croaked into his log recorder.  "Task 
Force...Log, Stardate 42594.2:  The Ingram is through the 
interphase."  He paused to inhale very deeply.  One of the 
helmsmen, rousing himself, tended to his partner, who had slammed 
his head into the console and was bleeding badly from a large 
wound.  "Will now check status, other ships."
     The Science Officer coughed, and said, "No enemies, sir."
     He sat upright, and waited until he felt in control of his 
body again.  There was a generally increased level of activity on 
the bridge, and the injured helmsman had been removed by an 
emergency medical team.
     The Ingram's captain, Fanek, a dark-skinned Arab, barked a 
few quick commands.  "Damage report, casualties, now."
     Wesley said to the Comm officer.  "Get reports from the other 
ships, and find out how we did."
     In a few minutes, they had their answers.  The flagship had 
sustained no damage, and a few minor injuries on breakthrough.  In 
the entire fleet, one ship had been crippled coming through, a 
Klingon frigate.  The turbulence had sheared one engine nacelle 
completely off, killing the engine room crew.  Wesley ordered an 
evacuation, and the ship was scuttled.  The Vulture took her crew.
     Otherwise, there were twenty odd fatalities, and no 
significant damage.
     However, the fleet had been tremendously scattered by local 
tides in the transition, and it would take some time to 
reestablish formation.
     The fleet was on minimum power, so as not to broadcast its 
position.  Wesley went to the flagship's Science Officer.  
"Commander, I want you to assemble a long-range sensor picture, 
using microsecond bursts from the sensors, on the lowest power 
setting.  Just enough to figure out where we are.  You have at 
least two hours while the fleet reassembles."
     "Aye, aye, Admiral."
     Wesley and Fanek toured the ship, and after two hours, 
returned to the bridge.  According to the records extracted from 
Enterprise's logs, they had arrived in very good position, in one 
of the biggest empty pockets in Jhonkai space, but still near 
inhabited systems.  And the fact that it only took two hours at 
impulse power to reorganise meant that the transition had gone a 
lot better than Wesley had privately thought possible.
     With everyone and everything back in order, the engine room 
reported ready to manoeuvre at warp speed.
     Of course, they were still at Red Alert, with weapons and 
shields ready, so they set off as soon as possible.
     "This is Admiral Wesley to all ships.  Our first target has 
been selected, and information is in your computers now.  We will 
proceeding at ultrawarp factor 1.5.  That is conventional warp 
factor 2."  Analysis of Jhonkai technology, what little had been 
recovered or captured, said that at that speed they were below a 
dangerous chance of being detected.  Wesley hoped so.  "From now 
on, all courses and speeds will be in conventional warp.  Upon 
arrival, we will analyse the situation, and then engage as 
necessary.  Flag out.
     "Comm, transmit 'go' signal."
     The Ingram accelerated.  The ship had a tremendous saucer, 
connecting to a secondary hull that looked not quite like a 
pregnant guppy.  But that pregnant guppy held thirty-six fighter 
shuttles, and a dozen heavy attack shuttles.  Each one, not very 
significant, but all together, an impressive amount of firepower.
     The huge transwarp nacelles glowed faintly blue, illuminating 
the main hangar that sat astride their junction on the ship's 
dorsal.

     At Warp 2, the target system was 110 minutes distant at a 
little over half a light-day.  They were moving 'blacked out', 
meaning no active sensors or scanners, nor any major power using 
systems shipboard which could be identified and tracked.  Each 
ship's computer realised when it had arrived and shut off the warp 
engines accordingly, as no living being could be precise enough to 
keep the formation at 2.4 million kilometres per second.
     "All ships have reported in, sir.  The formation is tight."
     "Good, good.  All right, Commander, take a look out there.  
What do you see?"
     The Science Officer peered into his scopes and monitors.  "No 
major collection of ships.  G-2 primary, three planets.  The 
middle planet is Class M, and inhabited and industrialised.  Two 
moons, one of which is inhabited, the other may be a shipyard.  
All together, maybe forty ships in system."
     "Have the fleet maintain minimum profile.  Comm, get me an 
indirect beam to the planet, laser only."
     "Aye, sir.  Established."
     "Good.  Send the following in local language."
     "Attention Jhonkai.  This is Admiral Garrett Wesley of the 
United Federation of Planets' Starfleet.  You have invaded our 
territory and we are here in response to your hostility.  If you 
surrender willingly, we will not attack.  We are ready to 
negotiate your needs.  Otherwise, we will be forced to take 
actions in protection of our government and our territory."
     "Message sent."
     "Good.  I want the fleet to move at full impulse towards," he 
consulted a navigation screen, "two-seven-five mark zero."
     "Aye, sir."
     "And let's all hope for a good response."

                           CHAPTER XVII

     "What's the count?"
     "As far as I can tell from this distance, three hundred and 
growing."
     After the Admiral's signal, Jhonkai ships had appeared out of 
almost nowhere, gathering at the other end of the system.  Wesley 
had said let them, because they wanted to achieve their objective 
as soon as possible, in as few battles as possible.  The Klingon 
and Kzinti admirals agreed, because they wanted a good fight.  
S'Tyrrg had agreed, but with some reservations.
     Besides, the waiting made the diplomats happy, because it 
gave the Jhonkai a chance to respond peacefully--while their 
entire warfleet gathered.
     Theoretically, the Federation had a major advantage, in that 
the Jhonkai didn't seem to be able to fight at warpspeeds, while 
Wesley's ships could.  Realistically, though, no commander could 
even hope to manoeuvre a fleet of this size in complex tactical 
warp manoeuvres.
     Theoretically, then, a few of the Federation's warp capable 
ships would be able to run rings around the entire Jhonkai fleet.  
But again, with this many hostile ships, it would just be too 
crowded, and the ships would probably collide with something else 
anyway.
     So, the fleets were meeting at roughly equal status.
     Another fifteen minuted passed.  "Admiral, the rate of 
appearance is dropping."
     "How many now?"
     "Three eighty, give or take."
     "Let me know when five minutes passes without an arrival."
     Wesley took a leisurely walk around the bridge, nodding 
approval at the officers' screens and panels, offering a little 
technical chit-chat along the way.  He was just returning to his 
chair when the Science Officer announced what he was waiting for.
     "Sir, five minutes and no new vessels.  Current count is four 
hundred and two."
     "Very well."  Wesley looked to the officer seated immediately 
to his right.  As a captain needed his executive officer, a flag 
officer was equally dependent on his Chief-of-Staff and Flag 
Lieutenant.  "Captain DiSanto."
     The fragile looking woman responded immediately.  "Yes, sir?"
     "In your opinion, are our interests better served by an 
offensive posture, or by waiting for the Jhonkai to make the first 
move?"
     DiSanto called up a tactical display on the flag console.  
"Sir, as deployed, the Jhonkai forces are making very good use of 
terrain, with this asteroid clump here," she pointed, "and the gas 
giant's moon system over here.  If we wait, they have nothing to 
lose, and their position is just too good to throw away.  I don't 
think they will even make a first move."
     "Good point.  And if we go straight for the planet..."
     "They will clearly outflank us."
     "Comm, send the ultimatum once again.  Tell them they have 
fifteen minutes to respond, or we will attack."
     To nobody's surprise, the Federation forces listened to 
interplanetary static for a quarter of an hour.  Admiral Wesley 
reluctantly admitted that his last chance to avoid bloodshed was 
gone, and he was out of options.
     With a lump in his stomach, he barked orders.  War orders.
     "Flag to task force.  All carriers deploy sub-units.  Prepare 
for engagement plan Alpha.  Right flank will engage enemy forces 
concentrated at one-one-one mark zero; all other ships will engage 
the enemy near the asteroid field.  Report Ready."
     "Aye, aye, Admiral.  All units report ready.  Carrier 
deployment underway."
     "All units, ahead three-quarters impulse.  Godspeed and good 
luck."

     The multi-layered formations of the Federation armada rolled 
through the narrow asteroid belt.  During the earlier, more 
warlike history of the Federation, large fleet engagements had 
occasionally been fought.  They paled in comparison.
     One-hundred and eighteen allied ships, among them forty three 
capital ships, mingled in a giant deepspace 'furball' (a term used 
by fighter-shuttle pilots to describe large complex dogfights) with 
four-hundred and two Jhonkai warships, fielding some seventy 
dreadnaughts of their own.
     Dozens of shuttles boosted to warp speed, moving aft of TF 
Odysseus, and circling far around to come up from behind the 
asteroid defenders.  With the range between fleets still at some 
tens of thousands of kilometres, Admiral Wesley gave the order to 
fire.  Federation ships began to volley proximity fused photon 
torpedoes, whose high yield warheads began to pound the giant 
rocks into small free-floating debris.
     Dozens of small drive flames winked on near the Kzinti ships, 
guided missiles dancing in crazy, unpredictable patterns toward 
the defenders.  The Gorns, who had learned a thing or two from 
decades of border skirmishes with Romulans, loosed over a dozen 
plasma torpedoes.
     Klingon disruptor fire washed across half hidden ships, then 
half of their battlecruisers went to cloak.  True, they would 
reveal their position every time they fired, but with all the 
sensory clutter, a few ships lost track of would be very nice for 
the allies.
     Jhonkai ships near the system's one gas giant boiled out in a 
wedge shape, seeing a flanking opportunity.  Suddenly, a mixed bag 
of Klingon and Federation ships (which also carried cloaking 
devices, though they were, until now, almost never used) appeared, 
diving straight down on them from above the plane of battle.  A 
wave of attack shuttles completed the hammerblow from underneath.
     The flankers, now themselves outflanked, fell to chaos.

     Riker watched the tactical display with intent eyes.
     Wesley Crusher was doing an outstanding job of combat 
manoeuvring.  Even Riker was getting a slight tinge of vertigo 
from the top down orientation of the attack.  Crusher apparently 
didn't notice, staring at his screens instead of the viewer.
     "Mega-phasers in range, sir."
     "Right, Worf.  Open fire, and target to cripple."
     "Aye, sir."
     Lightning blazed from the four huge pods on the ship's beam, 
converging on the scattering Jhonkai scoutships.  Blooms of light 
were testimonial to Worf's accuracy.
     The subspace chatter told Will that the fighters had achieved 
surprise.  The Jhonkai sensors were not good enough to target such 
small ships, and the formation of the attack wing was wide enough 
to make blanketing fire very inefficient.
     "Damage?"
     "Slight, sir.  Shields are holding very well."
     "Good, Mr. Argyle.  Keep it up, everyone."

     The forward engagement was beginning to overwhelm the allied 
forces.  Bearing the brunt of the Jhonkai heavy ships, Wesley's 
forward units had fallen out of formation, and were being harried 
by waves of the enemy scoutships.  To reinforce the situation, 
Admiral Wesley ordered the battleship Simonov forward with one of 
the Gorn dreadnaughts and a handful of battle- and heavy cruisers.
     Following a wave of max-powered photon torpedoes that 
annihilated six Jhonkai vessels, the small group entered the fray 
directly.  Plasma torpedoes hounded the Jhonkai like hunting dogs, 
dragging their quarry ferociously down.
     Simonov's mega-phasers carved a swath through four 
scoutships, two of them igniting in silent pyrotechnics.  Then, 
from every Jhonkai ship within range, hundreds of missiles 
appeared, filling the black sky with menacing intent.  The 
Carnisaur fired phasers on rapid-pulse, swatting the incomings as 
well as they could.  The alliance ships filled space with 
electronic jamming, all the while firing phasers and anti-
missiles.
     Simonov's captain ordered his detatchment to close with the 
Jhonkai, to get as close as possible.  They lumbered forward, 
swapping shots with each other, hurling deadly energy in 
tremendous quantities.  Simonov's primary shields failed as a 
nearby Jhonkai battleship flashed into energy.  Fire and death 
punched through the primary hull, blowing the port side into a 
jagged display of destruction.
     Carnisaur dropped a plasma torpedo directly on top of a 
nearby enemy.  The Jhonkai unloaded its weapons all at once into 
the shimmering ball of death, killing what turned out to be a 
decoy. Then the real torpedo engulfed the now defenseless ship, 
breaking it in two.
     A wall of Avenger class frigates closed on the swarm of 
missiles, trying to knock them down, but there were too many.  The 
heavily damaged Federation battleship struggled under the killing 
rain, her captain watching as one nacelle blew up, taking a good 
portion of the secondary hull with it.  His ship was gutted as 
forty missiles struck the now pitifully weak shields and hull.
     A badly damaged Carnisaur limped away with a small protective 
screen to the safety of the inner formation.  Drifting apparently 
without power, the Simonov floated through the reforming Jhonkai 
ships.
     And then the Federation fighters coming from behind salvoed 
half a thousand missiles at the tightly packed Jhonnkai.  Lost in 
the midst of this new threat, the Simonov jettisoned a few dozen 
lifeboats moments before  she exploded with the fury of total 
conversion.  The Jhonkai battleships that didn't die outright 
coupled lethally with the missile wave.
     Their main defensive positions shattered, their flanking 
force gutted, the Jhonkai began to spasmodically withdraw.  The 
alliance destroyers swept thoroughly through the Jhonkai 
stragglers, making sure none of them were able to fight.

     "Admiral, they're out of effective range."
     "Cease fire.  All units reconverge.  I want a fleet damage 
assessment ASAP, and prepare units to recover all lost fighters 
and lifeboats."
     "Aye, aye, sir!"
     The fleet pulled itself back into shape, as reports were 
processed and compiled.  Wesley looked it over.  Not as bad as 
he'd feared, but not as good as he'd hoped, either.  Sixteen 
allied ships were destroyed, along with about sixty percent of 
their total crews.  Several ships were crippled as well.  For 
that, they'd destroyed or knocked out of action over a hundred 
Jhonkai warships.  Percentage-wise, they were just barely behind 
expectations.
     "How about Simonov's crew?"
     "Sir, the rescue shuttles picked up a hundred and twelve 
survivors."
     Out of over six hundred, Wesley mentally added.  But given 
the kind of punishment that the ship had taken, it was more than 
he would have expected.
     "Okay, split them up between Excelsior and Ascension.  How 
soon until we're ready to fight again?"
     "About a half an hour."
     "Hmmm.  Alright, in five minutes, I want to send another 
offer of terms to them.  Again, fifteen minutes to respond.
     "What's their deployment now?"
     DiSanto answered, "They're gathering around the planet and 
the moons.  That second moon is definitley shipyards.  And we've 
identified a second group of ships here."  The Flag Lieutenant 
indicated the planet's trailing Trojan point.  "No signals from 
them whatsoever.  We're lucky to have noticed them."
     "What are they doing there?"
     "Sir, they appear to be transports."
     "Ah, I see.  Yes, if I wanted to get out of a star system 
quickly I suppose I would keep the transports very nearby.  
They're not defended?"
     "Nothing detectable, Admiral.  They probably don't realise 
that we know where they are.  Passive defenses are likely, 
however."
     "Minefields?"
     "Aye, sir."
     One of Wesley's staff was the CFG, or Commander Fighter 
Group, who was in charge of coordinating all of the fighter and 
attack shuttles.  "Captain Stant, I want you to organise a small 
secondary mission.  Two squadrons of fighters, and one fleet scout 
of your choice.  They're going to go and destroy those transports.  
The scout will serve as a minesweeper and electronics warfare 
platform.  Understood?"
     The Vulcan nodded gravely.  "Aye, aye, sir."
     "Excellent.  Report to me in eighteen minutes."
     Wheeling his stocky frame towards the turbolift, the admiral 
was interrupted by the Comm Officer.  "Admiral, Captain Picard is 
on the line or you."
     Garrett pushed a button on the armrest of the command chair.  
"Admiral Wesley here.  What is it Jean-Luc?"  Although friendly, 
his tone of voice belied his sense of urgency, something that 
Picard completely expected.
     "Admiral, has there been any sort of reaction to our 
communiques?"
     "None at all, Captain.  Not even acknowledgement."
     "Could it be that they're not even receiving our 
transmissions?  Is that possible?"
     "Jean-Luc, I understand your position.  You are here to 
negotiate, and I have no doubt that you sincerely hope to be able 
to end this conflict as quickly and cleanly as possible.  But the 
Enterprise-C's records clearly indicate communication with the 
Jhonkai, and we are following Captain Romanov's methods precisely.  
Also, our electronic warfare capabilities are more than suficient 
to make ourselves be heard over any sort of jamming they may be 
employing.  They are just not interested yet, and we have to 
convince them to be interested."
     "Of course, admiral.  I didn't mean to imply dissatisfaction 
with your methods, only with results thus far."
     "Yes, Jean-Luc, yes.  If it would be preferable, I can have 
all diplomatic communications with the Jhonkai handled by your 
party from the Saipan. Is that acceptable?"
     "Yes, very much, sir."
     "Fine.  Wesley out.
     Admiral Wesley quickly contacted the captains of as many of 
the ships as he could, trying his best to spread encouragement and 
to keep morale from falling.  True, the fleet had done well, but 
they had lost a battleship.  That could have a terrible effect on 
the men.
     As Commodore Mateo's visage faded from the screen, Garrett 
noted Stant's lanky figure standing over him.
     "Yes, Captain?"
     "Final preparations subject to your approval, sir?"  The 
Vulcan indicated a viewscreen displaying the plans for attacking 
the transports.
     "Excellent, Captain Stant.  Very impressive for such short 
notice."
     Wesley and his staff spent several more minutes finalising 
tactics for the next attack.  When they were all duly satisfied, 
Wesley ordered the command frequency open.
     "Flag to all units.  Acknowledge receipt of revised battle 
plan."  Less than a minute later, he continued.  "The Jhonkai 
still show no sign of responding to our overtures for a cease to 
hostilities.  We have no choice but to continue the attack.  
Captains, do not allow yourself to be distraced by the yards or 
support ships.  We must fight the Jhonkai warfleet until the 
either fallback or offer no further resistance.  Then we can 
concentrate on the logistical support.
     "Any questions?"
     There were none.
     "Very well.  Commence engagement plan Beta-two, and good 
luck.  All units ahead, one-half impulse power."
     Ingram surged smoothly forward.  "Here we go again."

     Captain Kjell warily watched the enemy ships sitting unmoving 
around their two moons while his small group moved slowly towards 
the transports.  Sentinel had been chosen to escort the fighter 
squadrons, one Klingon and one Kzinti.
     Kevar's eyes had practically melted onto his console, so 
intently was he scanning for the first signs of a minefield.  The 
Tactical officer was holding back the fighters for the moment, 
waiting until they could attack in safety.
     The main body of the fleet was waiting just inside of maximum 
range of the Federation photon torpedoes, which was quite large 
indeed. They were sniping from safe distance, waiting to see how 
the Jhonkai would react to Kjell's attack on their transports.  So 
far, they had made no move.  Kjell couldn't understand why; they 
certainly had almost nothing in the way of terrain advantage now.  
The cowards should be attacking to defend their homeland.  
Obviously the cowering fool Jhonkai had no insights into the way 
of a true warrior.
     Kevar's voice barked out, "Full stop, now!"
     Kjell watched with interest as the helmsman hurriedly obeyed.  
"What is it, Kevar?"
     "Definitely a minefield, sir."
     "Any active sensors."
     "Six, equally covering a sphere.  Nearest is one-nine-seven, 
mark two-two."
     "Analysis."
     "Deadman mines, tracking the rest of the field."
     "Then we must take them out first."
     "Aye, sir."
     Kjell switched the officer of his attention.  "Weapons!  Time 
on target missile salvo, two drones on each of those mines.  
Understood?"
     "Clearly, sir."  The weapons officer operated his console 
quickly and efficiently.  "Pattern set, captain."
     "Open fire!"
     A dozen missiles came off of two launch racks aft, near the 
impulse drive.  The first ones arced around the minefield to hit 
the deadman sensors away from Sentinel.  In perfect unison, six 
explosions dotted the edges of the field.
     "Scan?" inquired Kjell.
     Kevar responded, "No active emissions."
     "Good, good."  The captain didn't bother to remind Kevar that 
if he had missed even one deadman mine, the entire minefield might 
have been set off at once.  He didn't have to.  The sensor tech 
was already sweating.
     "Launch the shuttles, and divert power to the tractor beams."
     Sentinel moved forward, beginning the tedious and dangerous 
work of disabling individual mines.  As her tractor beams tossed 
some mines out of the way, a triplet of shuttles mounting small 
defensive phasers knocked many more out of commission.
     "Sensors?"
     "About halfway through the field, captain," reported Kevar.
     "Maintain."
     Suddenly, Kevar sat bolt upright.  "Captain!  Lifeform 
readings, and power coming up in one of those ships!"
     Kjell growled low in his throat.  "Disruptors!  Target, and 
fire."
     Kjell knew what Kevar's report meant.  All any living person 
needed to do to wreck a minesweeper was to throw one switch, order 
one computer command.  And he couldn't do anything about it, 
except to kill any Jhonkai before they got the chance to do so.
     Even as the pale green beams licked at the new power 
readings, causing their target to bubble away into slag and 
vapour, Kevar spoke again.  "Active sensors all around us.  We're 
being targetted."
     And then Kjell, the mighty Klingon warrior, panicked.  He 
should have ordered full stop and blackout.  He could have 
clocked, or launched decoys.  Or any number of things.  Anything 
but move.
     "Full reverse, now!"  Kevar heard the tinge of hysteria in 
his voice.
     Energy blossomed all over the Sentinel.  Some explosions, 
some phaser fire, or missile launches.  A half-dozen different 
effects, in fact, none of which were good.  The impulse 
engineering section was ripped indelicately from Sentinel's spine.  
A burst of explosive force ripped the forward boom from the rest 
of the ship, and the increase in motion triggered even more mines.
     Watching from a safe distance, the Kzinti wing leader, 
k'Trrek, saw the scout engulfed in flame and debris.  As the nova 
bright light dimmed, he saw what was left of the command boom 
spiral crazily away from the center, in the general direction of 
the fleet.
     k'Trrek thumbed his radio.  "Leader to all fighters.  The 
minefield is down.  Attack.  Attack and avenge!  Attaaaack!"  The 
last word turned into a shrill scream of rage as k'Trrek jammed 
his throttle to full.  Two dozen heavily armed shuttles charged 
down through a chaos of twisted and still burning debris.
     Three minutes later, twenty-one fighters reformed to return 
to the fleet, leaving behind no piece of metal bigger than a 
deckplate.  The Jhonkai transports had been scrapped, and every 
being who might have been aboard killed to a man.

     As soon as Sentinel disappeared into that hellish ball of 
energy, Wesley spoke to his fleet.  "All ahead full.  All units, 
engage now!"
     Even as they leapt forward, the entire Jhonkai fleet began to 
volley missiles.  Every scout could launch six at a time, every 
Jhonkai battleship eighteen.  Space was quickly filled with small, 
deadly dots.  The massed firepower under Wesley's command took to 
their defense with a vengeance.  Hundreds of missiles were 
destroyed or electronically deflected, leaving less than a hundred 
and fifty to arrive in the midst of the fleet.
     Those ships which mounted them fired high-density kinetic 
kill weapons at close range detonating a third of those remaining.  
Had their tagets been spread out, the missiles could not have 
seriously harmed the fleet.  But the Jhonkai were getting smarter.  
Those missiles which got throuh were all aimed at two ships, the 
Federation heavy carrier Saratoga, and the Klingon D-7V Peregrine.  
Saratoga's fighters emptied their own missile racks to defend 
their mothership, and Saratoga took only minor structural and 
heavy shield damage.
     Unfortunately, Peregrine's fighters were with the Sentinel, 
and she had no extra defense.  After some fifty missile hits, 
Peregrine, and her four frigate escort, ceased to be.

     "Damn!"  Admiral Wesley swore emphatically as he watched the 
Peregrine's death.  Between the five ships, over one-thousand 
crewmen had just been lost.  "All units, engage closely.  Full 
impulse ahead, now."
     The image on the forward viewer sped by even faster as the 
armada gained speed.  The long-range photons and disruptors began 
to be answered by the Jhonkai heavy weapons.  They weren't 
accurate, but they were powerful.  If any one thing was 
maintaining the allies' advantage, it was electronic warfare.  The 
Jhonkai ships were powerful, but crude.
     "Captain Kant, what's the status on the fighter group?"
     "Sir, all fighter shuttles are formed up behind the main 
fleet, with the heavy attack shuttles trailing them.  They're 
prepared to follow up any major openings made by our assault."
     "Good."  Fighters had once been labelled 'attrition units'.  
Admiral Wesley was not about to use them in a direct frontal 
attack just to support that moniker.  After all, this mission was 
going to, and had already, cost enough in blood to just throw away 
those pilots.
     The allied fleet pressed on, the larger ships weapons 
pounding Jhonkai units, while frigates and destroyers laced 
defensive fire in all directions.  On the offensive were also the 
remaining fifteen Federation Avenger class heavy frigates, 
aggressively designed ships mounting two phaser-cannon pods of 
their own.  One of the earlier ships in that class, NCC-1864 
Reliant, had achieved infamy with those weapons.
     And the second battle against the Jhonkai raged on.